acrylic
by frozen watermelons
Summary: of bright colors and lack thereof; of red and gray; snippets of their moments that will never be told. 03. the sky is on fire. -— ruby/victor.
1. technicolor girl

**notes****:** because I'm suffering from severe writer's block and I can't finish "the five times". My friend suggested I write little ficlets as practice. so yeah.

**title:** technicolor girl

**summary****:** can someone please tell her why she keeps on staring at the monochrome guy sitting at the farthest end of the diner?

**disclaimer:** standard one applies.

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Ruby Lucas lives in technicolor.

(She likes the name Ruby, even though her real name is Red. She doesn't see any reason why she should let that go).

She lives in a flurry of greens and hues of blue as Archie and Gepetto bond over a few drinks, standing beside an old dart board and laughing at something Doc just said, raising their glasses at him in a humorous salute; in hues of pink and red as Grumpy and Nova sit together on a table, smiling at each other and laughing brightly, blissful looks on their faces and she resides within the stormy, purple composition of Regina's magic; shines through David's optimism.

She lives in Belle's old, musty library, the smell of books and ink filling her senses; in flashes of brown and green and gold as she runs through the woods, the sun's golden glow beating down her back; in the flurry of brown as Henry excitedly pulls her aside to have a look at his book (she knows how it ends, but who can resist that kid?)

And Ruby can't help but smile at the peachy pout Snow sports whenever she half-heartedly complains about her family's crazy antics over a glass of cheery, orange fizz; Hook trilling about the wonders of mirrors and cursing foul beasts (ovens) on one side as Emma tries to not roll her eyes as she orders her coffee, light brown, topped with cinnamon, still warm.

Ruby lives in her own rainbow palette of coffee-filled mornings; in waffle Tuesdays and blueberry pancake Wednesdays; in nights when the moon is full and the familiar sensation of pleasure-pain shoots through her bones as she runs through the woods, wild, free, every bit of the animal she really is. She lives in the days when rain falls on the town; in the sea where she can smell the fish and the salt and can feel the sun's golden rays; in fields where bottle-green grass reaches gallantly towards a tinged horizon as thin sheets of grey rain down on Storybrooke.

Ruby is a technicolor girl, filled with starlit wishes and chipper days, saccharine smiles and wishful dreams, her future bright (she'll figure out a way to get out of this town of course, someday).

(So can someone please tell her why she keeps on staring at the monochrome guy sitting at the farthest end of the diner, his shoulders slouched defeatedly and his eyes so dull and indifferent that they are no color at all?)

Because.

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fin.


	2. like crazy

**notes: **i am deeply enamored with the idea of victor being unable to dance

**title: **like crazy

**summary: **"Eye contact, Victor," she lets her fingers slide to his collar, "don't forget".

**disclaimer: **standard one applies

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He doesn't know how to dance.

-which should be pretty surprising considering he _was_ the son of an extremely wealthy man . (You'd think he'd know how to do a simple two-step, but no). But then again, dancing had never been one of his many fortes. He had always preferred staying down in his lab to attending social gatherings his father so loved forcing him to attend ("Your presence is _required,_ Victor," his father had always said to him. "It'd be a complete shame if one of my _sons_ were absent"). Somehow, that led him to practice his dancing with Ruby. Her willingness to simply fix the problem instead of mock him for it (oh, he'll get the mocking later, of that he is absolutely sure) makes him breathe a sigh of relief. That was before the spiked heel of what Ruby called her boots jabbed into his foot for the fifth time in a row that day. He's not sure about other people, but he'd like to keep his toes. All ten of them.

(Dimly, he thinks, maybe dancing is a _much_ more dangerous thing than swordplay).

"Am I even doing this right?"

Ruby laughs, throwing her head back, the sound of her laughter rich and infectious and despite himself, Victor almost can't help the small smile threatening to spill from his lips. _Almost._

"You're doing, um," she pauses dramatically, twirling a strand of hair on her finger, pretending to think of a word to describe his (awful) dancing, "okay, I guess". She says this with a shrug, shoulders slowly moving in a slow motion and this time, Victor smirks at her. He can't help himself. "You guess?" He raises a brow skeptically and Ruby lets out a small laugh.

"Alright," she admits, cocks her head to the side, grins, "you're pretty awful".

"Thanks".

Ruby smiles at him, eyes full of mirth and joking and completely oblivious to the fact that her hands around his neck are currently making him feel so impossibly awkward he could possibly spontaneously at any second. Ruby seems to sense this because her grip loosens slightly.

"No problem, Doctor."

He looks away from her gaze, finding that he is unable to meet her piercing green eyes as long as she keeps on staring at him like that. He misses the frown Ruby gives him as he does so and her fingers find his chin with an ease Victor wished he could feel. He always feels this way around her; nervous and excited, nauseous yet exhilarated; knows that what he feels is a perfect contradiction to everything; yet he can't seem to stop himself. "Hey". Their eyes meet again and Ruby taps the side of his cheek lightly. "Eye contact, Victor," she lets her fingers slide to his collar, "don't forget".

"Is that...important?" He asks stupidly, swallows the lump forming in his throat and her green eyes stare back at him, looking impossibly amused and filled with humor.

"Yeah," she replies. That was definitely a smirk in her voice, Victor thinks, very much aware of their close proximity, finding that no matter how much he wants to, he can't seem to move away. Ruby is like that; charming and compelling, intriguing and mysterious. "but seriously, don't look at your partner enough to make them thing you're some sort of psycho".

He smirks at that, finding the irony in that statement very amusing. With a sigh, he brings himself to meet Ruby's penetrating gaze and she stares right back at him, eyes looking impossibly amused. He thinks that she finds the whole situation laughable and he might be annoyed if he weren't feeling so awkward. "Oh sure," Ruby snorts, "like that'll convince me you aren't planning some ridiculous plan in that head of yours".

"Who said I wasn't?"

"Very funny, Doctor".

"This," Victor scratches the back of his head awkwardly, coughing a little as he does so, "this is a little..awkward".

Ruby smiles at him, not at all unkindly. "That's because you're making it awkward," she says patiently, bringing his arms closer to rest at her waist and winding hers around his neck. Victor sighs again and lets Ruby guide him to the slow music that permeates his apartment. His hands are on her hips and her arms around his neck and he hasn't felt like this in a long while. Antsy, yet content. Nervous, yet exhilarated.

The silence envelops them for a moment, allowing the two former monsters to just relax, feeling the music around them and the calmness of the situation. It is a rare thing, them having a moment to themselves, without the constant pressure of the world on their shoulders.

Maybe, Victor thinks, maybe dancing isn't so bad after all.

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_you're like a candy bar, half sweet, half nuts. _

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fin.

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**notes** so yeah, this was pretty random and it's probably not my best work, but I figured it was pretty alright.

reviews are love (but seriously, you **will** review, right? Three reviews are great but I want to hear your opinions guys! Don't be afraid to PM me or leave a review. Your thoughts definitely count and they would really mean a lot to me).


	3. without you to hold, i'll be freezing

**notes: **and this is what happens when you're stuck on a three-hour flight and your phone battery dies alongside the last strip of your sanity. so yeah, whatever. my dear readers, please don't kill me for this very late update.

**title: **without you to hold, i'll be freezing

**summary: **the sky is on fire.

**disclaimer: **standard one applies.

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_and i still get the butterflies, even though i've seen you a hundred times before._

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She's glowing.

—and he isn't sure if its something natural (something to do with her being a werewolf perhaps? a side effect?) or if its just the way the moonlight is hitting her porcelain skin, or if she's actually radiating all that _stuff_; stars in her eyes, cheeks flushing, serene smile on her _pinkpink_ lips.

They sit upon dewy grass, long wisps of green swaying gently in the breeze and their shoulders touch, nudging, teasing as he listens to her animated chatter.

(—and he misses half of everything she says; he's not actually paying attention—

but he does notice how her eyes grow wide and how they glimmer in the starlight; likes how her laugh sounds in the darkness; likes the way she looks: bright, hopeful, peaceful as she tells him about Granny and the diner and the new coffee roast they're serving. )

And while he doesn't normally do stuff like this, he makes an exception for her (like he always does when it comes to her). And they stay that way until the sunrise peeks through wispy clouds, orange and yellow and so_ brightbrightbright._

Almost like the sky is on fire.

Ruby falls into peaceful silence and leans into his shoulder, long dark hair spilling onto him and he thinks she smells vaguely like vanilla and summer rain.

She's still glowing, he observes, even in the light of the rising sun (or maybe it's just the sun's rays reflecting their light off her shoulder or perhaps it was the bottle of bootleg rum he drunk last night making him think like that), and he thinks that maybe, maybe she does shine on her own.

(Like a brilliant star).

"You're the best, Victor".

She murmurs, dithering between wakefulness and sleep; he smiles back at her and ignores all the voices in his head that tell him: _this isn't going to end well, no you can't do this, you can't do this to yourself—to her_, and instead laces his fingers with hers, her small hand soft and warm and fitting perfectly into his.

"I know," he tells her cheekily because he can't _not_ (he kinda blames Dr. Whale for that) and she just pushes at his shoulder playfully. They talk some more or rather, she talks and he listens to everything she says, nodding and smiling at all the right times, not really listening, yet not completely inattentive, mesmerized by her scent, her hair, the stars in her _greengreen_ eyes. She asks him about that night, if he regrets being saved; he swallows thickly because even though they've talked about this before, something feels different this time and he isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.

"I don't," he says, confident, reassuring, and then: "Not anymore". —_this isn't right, this will not end_—

And she leans her head on his shoulder; her hand tightens around his larger one and he isn't sure what to think as he prods and tickles her palm (but she squeezes his hand tightly in hers, fingers wrapping around his and maybe, he needs to stop thinking and listening to the voices in his head and—

And maybe he just needs to _feel_).

And the voices stop.

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_and i can count the stars in your eyes, even though it's not dark outside._

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fin.

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reviews are love.


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